The Test
by sunnyuptnorth
Summary: Cas persuades Dean to begin testing his limits now he has the Mark of Cain


Cas stripped off his trench coat, and tossed it behind him without a glance, followed by his suit jacket. He rolled up both sleeves to above his elbows and paused, a single eyebrow raised, unable to suppress a frustrated sign. Dean hadn't moved from where he sat, bottle of beer in hand at the library reading table. His weary face illuminated by a soft yellow light from a reading lamp to his left, a copy of Busty Asian Beauties open in front of him. What could have been a flattering light instead made him look jaundiced, Cas thought. With a softer expression briefly crossing his face, Cas realised he was never going to be able to stop doing a perfunctory check of the Winchester's wellbeing every time they met, looking for cuts, bruises and more recently the fatigue that always seemed to be painted across their faces. At Dean's feet were an empty bottle of scotch and a number of empty beer bottles, labels peeled off in a shredded mess.

Deans eyes were the only thing to have reacted to Cas at his entrance, eyes that were rapidly filling with Dean's famous stubbornness.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Cas persisted, gravely voice forceful "Dean, how else are we going to know?"

Dean shook his head as he cut the idea down "I don't know Cas, but I'm not going to fight you" sweeping his arm in a chopping motion Dean muttered a dismissive "end of discussion" before standing up to fetch a new beer.

Coming back into the room, Dean could see Cas had not moved an inch, but his narrowed eyes and pursed lips screamed frustration.

"I said NO Cas" Dean barked as he sat down on the edge of the reading table to sip his beer, facing the angel but avoiding eye contact.

Cas took a small step forward, head leaning down to try to force eye contact with Dean, emphasise his words "you planned to kill Abbadon, yes? You were nearly killed last time, before you put a demon-trap bullet in her head. She won't allow that a second time, so tell me Dean, how is it you think you can get close?" sarcasm dripping from the last few words, Cas ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

Dean's head whipped up suddenly, green eyes blazing. It took all of the angels willpower not to step back, his resolve to see this through battered as he saw how little control Dean had now over his temper.

"The Mark of Cain, as you damn well know Cas" growled Dean, angrily gesturing with the mouth of the beer bottle in his hand.

"Right Dean. That's just great. Really. And how do you know what you are capable of, what your limitations are now you have the Mark?" Cas spat angrily "you did a pretty good job on Gadreel, so Sam tells me, so you have clearly gained considerable strength, but have your reaction times sped up, are you faster healing, what is your stamina like now? And exactly how much control do you still maintain over your anger?"

"dammit man" yelled Dean "I don't want to hurt you"

"which brings me back to my original point, Dean" narrowing his eyes once again, Cas took a smaller step forward "who else can you test this with, who else can you fight that can heal as quick as me and is nearly as strong as Abbadon herself, who can test your stamina and resilience? I know you Dean, every fibre of your being, and together we can work out how we can use the Mark so that we are not yet again faced with another..." Cas paused to use his hands to frame his next words in air quotations "Bloody Stupid Winchester Sacrifice"

Dean snorted but didn't make a comeback. Cas glanced down at Deans hand, wrapped around the almost empty beer bottle and noticed it was shaking slightly, knuckles white. Taking a deep breath in relief, Cas knew he had made his point.

"Let's find somewhere more appropriate for a sparring match, shall we Dean?"

Without a backward glance to see if he was being followed, Dean slid off the table edge and walked out of the room and down a flight of stairs hidden by the shadows between the bookshelves. Taking a couple of steadying breaths Cas squared his shoulders and followed the hunter.

Thinking back to earlier in the day, he half smiled as he recalled the look on the faces of his followers as they listened to him try to explain why he was choosing, of his own free will, to get beaten to a pulp by Dean. There was a worrying niggle at the back of his mind about whether his stolen grace would be able to heal him fully, but he pushed away, knowing that he was probably making, yet again, his very own kind of "bloody stupid Winchester sacrifice" here. When would the bigger picture stop being a priority?

Cas reached the bottom of the stairs and walked up to a door, the top half a window of rippled safety glass, the type that contained a grid of wire. Squinting through the small squares Cas could see Dean was stood in the centre of a small gymnasium, beer bottle still held in one hand, shoulders and back tense. Surrounding him wooden bars ran horizontally along the walls, occasional ropes hanging down from the ceiling, and the floor was marked out for various sports. Cas pushed the door and walked into the room, his footsteps echoing slightly around them.

"Hello Dean. This seems more appropriate, thank you" Cas approached, calmly taking the bottle away from Dean and placing it over on a hobby horse, before walking around the hunter to stand face to face, just a couple of strides between them, determined blue eyes meeting blazing green.

"don't thank me yet man. So how are we gonna do this then? bare knuckle no holds barred?" Dean shook his head throughout his words, like his subconscious was still trying to back out of it. His hands had formed into fists however and he was breathing quickly, so Deans body had clearly been priming itself for a good fight.

"OK, well let's start with you trying to hit me Dean" Cas smirked "that is, if you can?"

With no hesitation, Dean lunged forward, swinging a fist straight at Cas's face, distracting him whilst his other fist came up from below, aiming solidly for the angels abdomen. Cas stepped back, both blows missing him.

"you are holding back Dean. Let it go, we need to see what the Mark has done to you physically. Seriously, I'd have thought I have done plenty to piss you off, you should have no trouble punching me. Don't worry, I'll be hitting back too" Cas finished, moving to stand with a firmer footing, arms held loosely, ready.

Dean took a small step back, re-evaluating his opponent, the space they had around them, and any makeshift weapons he could use, feeling a calm come over him as he stepped back into the mindset he had to have to survive in purgatory.

"you asked for it dude" was all the notice he gave before he set upon the angel in earnest. Cas dodged the first few moves, but was tripped up by Deans leg snaking out and he hit the floor with a thud. As Dean stepped in to deliver a kick to his ribs, Cas grabbed Deans ankle and lifted, knocking the hunter off balance, before surging up and hitting Dean squarely on the jaw before stepping back quickly. Deans face transformed from focussed aggression to outright fury as he lifted his hand to lightly touch his clearly fractured jaw. He attacked the angel with everything he had, every ounce of his being put into destroying the threat in front of him.

Cas became aware, slowly, of a cool smooth surface under his face, and the lingering scent of beeswax. The cool was good, as his face felt oddly hot. Cracking the one eye that wasn't smooshed to the floor, Cas could see a vast expanse of wooden floor covered in a layer of dust, broken by footprints and scuff marks. And drops of blood. Hmm, thought Cas, I should probably be a bit more worried by that, but he couldn't quite focus his thoughts beyond a vague feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd done something stupid again. Mind you, he learned that from the best. Chuffing a small laugh, that quickly turned into a wet cough and a wince of pain, Cas lifted his head, before putting all of his strength into pushing himself up to his knees, head once more hung low between his shoulders. Taking deliberately shallow breaths as he definitely had some broken ribs, Cas somehow managed to stand upright, gingerly looking around the room for the hunter.  
Dean was sat against the wall, knees pulled up and his head resting in bloody hands, body perfectly still.

Cas coughed, wincing again and holding onto his ribs carefully as he commented dryly "well done Dean, we know you have the strength to beat Abbadon now at least".  
Pausing for a pain-filled breath, Cas continued "and as I am not dead yet, you also have good self-control". Cas closed his eyes, concentrating on healing the worst of his injuries and cleaning himself up as best he could.

Cas made his way across the room, sinking down and copying Dean by pulling his knees up, sighing quietly and leaning his head back on the wall to stare at the ceiling, adams apple bobbing as he swallowed dryly, a beer would go down well right now he thought to himself.

"I am fine Dean"

When there was no reaction from the hunter, Cas continued "look at me Dean" with gentle conviction in his words "I'm fine"

Cas lifted his arm to rest his hand on the other mans shoulder, but Dean immediately flinched and shuffled along the wall out of arms reach from the angel.

"are you hurt Dean, do you need healing?" Cas inquired with a frown. The fact that Cas had no idea how Dean felt about what he'd just done came through clearly in his words.

Deans head snapped up, eyes boring holes into Cas's skull with their ferocity. "I nearly killed you Castiel, and the worst thing about it? I really enjoyed hurting you, kicking you until your ribs broke, enjoyed seeing your lip split and your flesh bruise. You should have left me in hell torturing souls, because I haven't changed at all, I'm still a freaking monster"

Cas chuffed a small half-laugh, but stopped as he saw the hurt in Dean's eyes grow. Rolling his own eyes, rather dramatically, Cas explained "Dean, you have more heart than anyone I have ever met, and that is a lot of people. Do you think your soul shines any less now than when I first saw you? No, its still blinding. I never once thought you would actually kill me, you know. As you explained before, the Mark is a means to an end, something I think you can bear, because you are strong in all the right ways. And the pain of the beating? I'm a soldier, its nothing I haven't taken before, that's who I am, and who I was made to be. I too have felt enjoyment in a job well done, even if that job was causing pain or suffering, that is part of a soldier's lot. I agree, it can lead to a certain amount of self-loathing, but it's not like we have had much choice to do it differently lately"

Standing up rather stiffly, Cas stood in front of Dean, hand extended

"get up Dean, please"

Dean lifted his head, eyes still lowered, but after a moment, he extended his hand too, allowing himself to be pulled up. Cas healed Deans fractured jaw, bloody knuckles and other minor wounds as he helped the hunter stand, so that by the time Dean was upright, he was fully healed. Dean frowned at the angel, but seemed too weary to argue, and found himself muttering like a petulant teenager who'd been called out for sulking "what now then?"

Cas was quiet, Dean eventually having to look him in the eye to find out what he was thinking. Cas was grinning. "Now Dean? As much as I disapprove of your dependence upon alcohol, I think we need to test your stamina and resilience by getting absolutely wasted whilst watching Dr Sexy reruns"

Dean focussed briefly inward to discover Cas had sobered him up as well as healing him. Damn it. Right, in that case, the angel could damn well go on a beer run.

Glaring down at Cas, Dean grumpily ordered "then you'll have to mojo out to go fetch more drink, we are running low for some reason"

Grinning wider, pleased that Dean seemed to have come round somewhat, even if it saddened the angel slightly to realise it was the thought of alcohol that had done it, not his own inspiring speech, Cas nodded and disappeared.


End file.
